The rains of duskval greeted the five Iyrmen as they continued to trek southward, towards the Iyr. The gloomy air clung to their shoulders as they returned, speaking few words. It was most unfortunate for such a thing to occur during an Outing, especially considering that the Iyr’s hands were tied.

Of course, there was a way to bring back Tonogek, but with how the Iyr was currently, it was something Tonagek would be foolish to do.

The rain fell heavier, and the group found purchase under an overhang, one which was set within the hill awkwardly, causing them to step around to enter the section which had been carved into the rock. There was one every ten miles or so, but once they would reach the land which was commonly considered to be a part of West Aldland, such reliefs would disappear.

‘Is Fate playing tricks upon me? To think that it was a rukh which took my son from me.’ Tonagek thought of his sister, before his thoughts were disrupted by the sounds of feet sloshing in the rain.

A group of Humans appeared, each adorned in all manner of clothing, arms, and armour, stepped into the darkness, before the fellow in front screamed, reaching for his blade. The Humans behind quickly drew their weapons.

“Are you sure you wish to fight?” Gortol asked, his arms crossed. Even though the strangers had drawn their blades, the Iyrmen did not reach for their weapons. Yet.

“Oh it’s your lot,” one of the men said.

“Iyrmen,” the man in chain said. He was bigger than the others by a few inches in every way, and carried at his side a blade, whereas many carried axes and spears. “Since it’s cramped here, we’ll make our way about.”

“The rain will not let up,” Gortol said, his eyes glued to the man in chain. “You may stay.” His voice was calm and clear, but to the wandering vagabonds, the tone of voice seemed far more vicious.

“Oh, we couldn’t possibly intrude, right boys?” Boss asked.

“Boss, we’ve got a problem,” came a voice from behind.

“What is it?” Boss asked, his eyes glued to Gortol’s.

“I-it’s a b-big p-problem,” the man said, his teeth chattering.

Boss noted the female Iyrman’s eyes staring curiously behind him before his head snapped back. There he saw his companion’s hands were entirely blue, and were stuck to the crate he was carrying. ‘What?’

The crate exploded, causing the vagabonds to pull back, as the three silver scaled critters leapt out. They quickly darted towards the Iyrmen, who held their weapons out, the shock of the situation having caused them to draw their blades.

“Dragons?” Raknuu said, clutching her daggers in hand. She had noted the markings of a Dragon nearby a while ago, though Gortol had dismissed her words. It was not that they had been dismissed, it was that he knew of the matter, and she should not.

“That appears to be the case,” Gortol said, staring down at the trio, which ducked behind the Iyrmen, purring quietly. Three baby Silver Dragons in the possession of such dirty vagabonds? There were a few Silver Dragons up north which these beings could belong to, yet none would allow their children to roam free in such a dangerous manner.

The sound of metal striking metal filled the small recess within the hill.

Eyes fell to the side, where one of the vagabonds, in a panic, struck his axe into an Iyrman’s shoulder. His eyes were full of shock, partly at what he had done, daring to raise his axe, but partly because he actually managed to strike the Iyrman.

“Why am I always the first one to get hit?” Mosen asked, rubbing the side of his neck. His neck was taut, and his jaw was entirely clenched, the smile on his face deadly.

“You blasted bastard,” Boss said, raising up his sword to strike his companion. How could the bastard dare to strike the Iyrmen? It was an utter death sentence for them all. Another blade blocked it, one which was dark, but the vagabonds could see it was red. The Iyrman, who had been struck by the axe, had stopped Boss’ sword.

Mosen’s eyes were glued to Gortol’s. Though he was enraged by the fact he was hit, there was something else which was far more important. He raised a brow to the leader of the Iyrmen, asking a question which went entirely unsaid.

‘That is a good idea,’ Gortol thought.

The question was obvious. Here were three baby Dragons, those with silver scales, no doubt children of one of the Dragons up north. They were were currently kept by a group of vagabonds, who were barely skilled. Yes, there were at least a dozen of them, but the strongest was not even an Expert.

Typically, the Iyrmen would not have gotten involved, though they would have sent word up to the north to let them know, but it was not their way to get themselves involved in such business.

However, the vagabonds had dared to strike the Iyrmen first.

“Sorry about that, Iyrmen,” Boss said, withdrawing his blade, which shook.

“There is no need for your apology,” Gortol stated, smiling reassuringly at the vagabond, though his face was full of shadows.

Boss smiled nervously. If the Iyrman said there was no need for his apology, then it seemed that all would be well. However, his mind was racing as to how he should appease the Iyrmen. However, there was the matter of the Dragons.

“No apologies,” Arfan agreed, disrupting Boss’ thoughts. “Only blood.”

Boss’ smile grew taut.

The Iyrmen sprung into action, a whirlwind of terror befalling the vagabonds.

Mosen’s blade gutting the man who had struck him, cutting through him as though he were made of paper, before his blade pierced through another, going through his jaw and out through the top of his skull, before he kicked the vagabond off of his sword.

Gortol’s greatsword cut Boss in half, while Rakuul stepped onto his shoulder and tossed herself into the pile of vagabonds, tearing into a neck. Arfan’s axes cut into the vagabonds near her, spraying blood across the scene. Tonagek remained behind, the least nimble of the lot, and stayed with the silver scaled Dragons.

It had taken less than a minute for the Iyrmen to finish killing the vagabonds, including all those who tried to flee. Arfan and Gortol had chased them down, killing them without allowing them to even take a hundred steps away from the recess.

“Dragons,” Tonagek whispered, staring down at them.

They stared up at the Iyrmen, noting their tattoos, and cooed towards them. They crawled over to their legs, rubbing against them like cats tended to do, before staring up at the Iyrmen.

“They know that we are Iyrmen,” Raknuu said, reaching up to pet one, only for it to withdraw. “Though they do not trust us completely.”

“It is not that they do not trust us, but they are not affectionate to us,” Tonagek said. “Little Dragons, where are your mother and father?”

The Dragons purred up at the Iyrman, before looking up into their eyes. The Iyrmen weren’t sure how to take such a response.

“Are you the oldest?” Tonagek asked, looking to the Dragon who was scarred. “Did you protect them?”

The Dragon stared up at the Iyrman for a moment before purring quietly.

“You have done well.” Tonagek smiled. “It should be the eldest who protects the youngest.” He cleared his throat, fighting back whatever emotions tried to invade him.

Seeing his sad eyes, the eldest nuzzled into Tonagek’s leg, purring up at him, before she returned back to her siblings. They each nuzzled one another, letting down their guards near the Iyrmen.

“What are we to do with them?” Raknuu asked.

“We should bring them to the Iyr,” Gortol said. “We may be able to find out who their parents are, and if they have none…”

The Dragons purred quietly towards Gortol, and nuzzled against his leg. They knew of the Iyr, which was meant to be a safe place. It was a place which would welcome them due to the connection the Iyr held with their family.

Tonagek looked down at the children, at the scars of the eldest, and he thought deeply. “Perhaps this is Baktu’s fortune. I have lost Tonogek, but he has sent to us three children.”

Gortol wasn’t sure what to say to such words, which were filled with a deep hurt. He looked to the dead bodies which littered the area, before he nodded. “It seems Baktu has sent us much, but they are most likely the children of Talia.”

Tonagek closed his eyes, sighing. They hacked the bodies and buried them nearby. The Dragons remained near the Iyrmen, knowing that they would soon be able to meet their family if they were to follow these folk.

The eldest looked up at all the Iyrmen, wondering what they were thinking deeply about. She raised her wings and covered her siblings in their shade, before she fell asleep. She could still feel the great strength within her, though it exhausted her. However, what need of this power would she have once they were safe?